


Succorance

by KittyAug, KittyAugust (KittyAug)



Series: Of Hunters and Hellblazers [6]
Category: Constantine (TV), Hellblazer & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Bottom Dean, Church Sex, Daddy Kink, Dom John, Dom/sub Play, Dominant John Constantine, Implied Edging, Kink, M/M, Sub Dean, Sub Dean Winchester, Top John Constantine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 18:38:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3299732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyAug/pseuds/KittyAug, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyAug/pseuds/KittyAugust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hellblazer has turned Dean Winchester into a restless and reckless whimpering mess. And god it feels good. He is so strung out and lust drunk that he doesn’t even care at this point how he comes across. Everything just feels so <em>agonizingly</em> too good and temptingly too little all at once.</p><p>So of course he says the exact wrong thing at the exact right time...</p><hr/><p>Kinky smut (in a church - because why not).</p><p>Prompt: "You know what would make the world a better place right now? Some Dean Winchester/John Constantine daddy kink."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Succorance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sapphy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphy/gifts).



> Well how can a person say no to making the world a better place? Hope this hits the spot. If not, then that's okay, turns out there is more than this to come (including an inversion).
> 
> * * *
> 
>  **Timeline:** This is probably around the third time they’ve met and maybe the fifth or sixth time they’ve hooked-up. After [Whiskey Burning](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2829158) but still a few years prior to the Louisiana period. After Sam’s left for Stanford however. Dean is probably around 21/22 and Constantine is around 29.

Dean Winchester has been turned into a restless and reckless whimpering mess. And god it feels good. Naked and yearning. Utterly wrecked. He is so fucking strung out and lust drunk that he doesn’t even care at this point how that comes across. Everything just feels so damn _agonizingly_ too good and temptingly too little all at once. Everything just fucking _feels_ in a way he didn’t know was possible. He’s been begging for more for… fuck he’s not even sure how long.

“Yes… Daddy… please…” it was just a thoughtless part of an ongoing litany muttered pleas.

But Constantine stills suddenly. Fuck, no, don’t fucking _stop_. Stops the tantalizing trail of soft kisses he was working into the flesh of Dean’s thigh. And worst of all stops the perfect stretch and burn of his fingers where they’re buried deep inside – so close but not quite close enough to what Dean’s been begging for.

“What did you just call me?”

“Um…” Fuck. Dean can’t really think through this crazy lust driven endorphin haze. “Daddy?” He winces when it comes out on purpose like that.

Back in the day he would have charged extra for something like that but that isn’t what this is. Is it? The rules are totally different. Dean opens one eye, not sure if he wants to see the reaction. Because willingly fucking a dude is one thing… but that had to be pushing the line, right?

Apparently it was pushing something. Hot damn, Constantine is smirking. It’s not just any kind of smirk though. It’s _that_ expression. The one that could probably make Dean drop to his knees anywhere the Hellblazer wanted. Okay, maybe Dean’s glad he opened his eyes now. He feels his cock jump at the fire in Constantine’s eyes. A smug spark that tells him he’s hit a nerve in just the right way. He’s not entirely sure what he just dropped himself into but he is pretty sure he wants to find out right the fuck now.

John slides his fingers out though and Dean almost damn well _sobs_ at the loss. This harsh whimpering sound just slips out of him as Constantine withdraws his fingers from Dean’s body. Like a dying animal not a full grown hunter. He’s just been so thoroughly tugged and pulled and kissed and teased he just can’t handle it anymore. Hardly even has a grip on reality he is so far gone. So throbbing and needy.

“You’re just fucking gagging for it aren’t you?” John says, moving up but closer. Voice slipping into a different register. The sort of tone that makes Dean want to beg. Or just want. Pressing the hard line of his body against Dean’s sweat slick side. And there’s that soft dress cotton scratch against Dean’s bare chest. A kink he’s pretty sure the damn Hellblazer gave him in the first place. Grazes the very tips of his lube drenched fingers across Dean’s cock. Just enough to make him burn and gasp for more.

And, yeah. That’s true. He is gagging for it isn’t he? Literally. Chocking on his own excruciating, wanting, desperate desire. He fucking _needs_ this. Hard and fast. And now. He manages a whimper and a nod.

“Words, Winchester.”

“Yes… Daddy,” he gasps out. God that’s sick. But it feels amazing. To just let go and _be_ the twisted fucked up thing he hates under his skin. Just give in. To himself. To John. To everything. Just give in to this aching hot moment.

Dean’s head falls back hard against the hard wood of the pew. He closes his eyes again and lets his weight drop against the bindings at his wrists.

Because it turns out that exorcists carry some pretty heavy duty restraints with them pretty much everywhere. Dean’s not even sure how long it would take him to get out of these things if Constantine hadn’t left the final straps bound tight but put the padlocks aside. He’s got Dean strapped down by his arms. Spread wide across the back of one of the solid wooden pews at the front of the church – which isn’t going anywhere either.

Oh, and yeah, in his fuck drunk bliss Dean had almost forgotten that they’re in a derelict church. He is literally trussed up and laid out in front of an altar. A mighty stone angel gazes down on them impassively. And Dean’s glad he doesn’t believe in the things because that one has to be judging him right now.

This has to be the most twisted kinky shit he has ever done. But holy _hell_ Constantine is frigging good at it. When Dean first spotted the restraints in the bag after the salt and burn; tentatively suggested it and asked for ‘intense’ he had just assumed they would go hard and fast. Scratch, bite, buck and fight till they fucked it out. They both like it rough anyway so just amp that up to 11. But that isn’t what the Hellblazer had in store for him at all. Oh no. This was so much worse. And so, _so_ much better.

No – not rough and fast at all. Not yet – but fuck it had to be soon. Dean was going to die if he didn’t get it hard, deep and aggressive soon. But not yet. Turns out it hurt so much sweeter when John took his time. Made everything sensitive, and aching with desire. His skin felt like it was burned (even where it wasn’t).

He hadn’t realized what it meant to be well and truly debauched. But oh, sweet hell, does he know now.

His very flesh has become this receptive erotically charged instrument. And Constantine just plays him with ludicrous ease. Plucks at the strings of white hot desire and brings him inexorably closer to totally and complete devastation. Draws out notes of lust and craving Dean didn’t even know he had in him. Until he thinks he might cry just from the frigging, heart heavy, libidinal hunger of it all. It’s a feverishly blissful kind of torture. And he honestly doesn’t know how much more he can take. Too soft and too painful and not enough all at once.

“What do you _want_ , love?” Constantine is speaking soft and rough into his ear. A gentle demand but tinged with every expectation of being obeyed. “Just be a good boy and tell me what you need. And Daddy’ll give it to you. Anything you want. If you can just- _fucking_ \- articulate- _it_.” Slow and smoky and precise.

Everything about that does it for Dean. The voice. The words. _Daddy_. And oh damn that is so fucking _wrong_. The fact that John is still fully dressed (apart from the coat that lies discarded across the freaking altar). Still in control of himself (and of Dean). Can still form perfect sentences - even say the word articulate! Dean can barely even think it. Let alone do it. Fuck.

“I… I want…” fuck. He isn’t good at _asking_ for things at the best of times. He isn’t good at admitting he would ever want what he so desperately wants right now. What he never should have wanted in the first place. “I…”

“Go on then,” John’s voice against his neck sends a shudder of needy torment down his spine. “You’re being so good for me, love. Just try a little harder, yeah? Such a good boy.”

And oh fuck that’s worse. Because it works. Hell yes does it work. And it shouldn’t but it does. Constantine slides a hand down his side. It’s oddly soothing even against his tender skin. Firm but gentle. Pressing him to say more.

“I want it... From you,” Dean says. “Now.” Inhales. Tries not to cry. Tries not to demand. Tries to be good. Smothers himself in the smell of dust, and ash and sandalwood. Can almost taste and his own arousal and sweat in the air.

“Yeah, mate,” Constantine prompts. “ _What_ do you want from me, Dean? _Tell_ me.” Still won’t just give it to him. Sadistic bastard.

Dean whimpers. Delves down into himself. He doesn’t want to say it. Doesn’t want to admit what he wants so bad it actually hurts. But he has to. Because it’s an order. And if there is one thing Dean Winchester knows how to do it is take orders from Daddy.

“I want you to fuck me,” Dean gasps out - all in one short panting breath.

“Ask _nicely_ then,” Constantine says voice dropping cold. Digs his fingers in and scratches across Dean’s sensitive skin. The hot pain spike is a heavenly distraction. Stinging sparks of sensation that somehow both push him closer and pull him back. It’s acute and real. A harmony of contrast.

“Please,” Dean half-sobs the word. “Fuck me, Daddy. Please…” Dean opens his eyes again. Sees Constantine looking back at him.

“Good boy,” John laughs. And god that laugh – Dean thinks he’s addicted to it.

John kisses a short line of half-bitten kisses along Dean’s collar bone before stepping back. Letting Dean watch as he yanks his tie off from around his neck in one haggard half-frantic motion. Bites his lip and lets his eyes rove across Dean’s exposed body. Lingering at his hard and blood heavy cock and open ready ass. More than open. More than prepared. Uncontrollably eager is probably a better descriptor. He must look fucking wrecked, and desperate, and shamelessly wanton.

Whatever the adjectives they’re obviously working for the Hellblazer. He’s grinning and looking at Dean like he’s fucking delectable. Like he’s some kind of holy prize instead of a broken screwed up mess. Like he might think he’s worth something. Like working him up like this is something to be proud of. And yeah, that freaking works for him too. It connects with that part of Dean that he doesn’t want to look at too closely – that part that just wants to be wanted. That same fucked up bit that just _bleeds_ to be a good boy.

He almost feels a little disconnected now he’s finally about to get what he wants. Watches from the edge of everything as the Hellblazer unbuckles his belt just this side of slow motion. Dean gulps in air. Tries to focus. Watches as the other guy pulls his cock free. Doesn’t even actually remove his belt of fully drop his pants. Fuck. That’s gonna dig in. He’s going to be able to feel fabric against flesh.

Dean arches back. Stretches his legs open as far as he can. Writhes in anticipation. Watches as the Hellblazer makes a show of ripping open a condom packet and rolling the thing on. Slow. Too fucking slow. Strokes it experimentally and examines his handiwork. Slathers on even more frigging lube even though Dean can feel the stuff already sliding out of him and drenching his thighs as it is. Draws the whole thing out just that little bit longer.

“Please, Daddy?” that’s Dean’s voice. Begging for it. And now he’s started he can’t stop. “God. I need it. I need you _now_. I need you to fuck me. Please, fuck me. Come on, do it for _me_ Daddy? Please?”

And then Constantine actually lunges at him. Fucking finally. Wraps an arm around Dean’s body for leverage as much as contact. Lifts him into place in one exaggerated motion. Uses the other hand to line himself up. And Dean thinks he’s still talking. Somewhere. Still begging. But all he can really focus on is the feeling. That hot and hard indulgence finally filling him up. Penetrating that first ring of inflamed muscle and slowly, unbearably slowly, inching into him.

Dean tries to cant his hips. Tries to drive Constantine’s cock into him. Harder. Or faster. And deeper and sweeter. But then there’s a hand on his hip. Holding on tight enough to bruise. Forcing him still. Forcing him to keep fucking begging for it. The slow slide of fulfillment coming at a blissfully, agonizingly and heartbreakingly gradual pace.

Once John is finally buried in Dean’s emphatically ready body he pauses for a moment. A moment too long. Dean whimpers. Whispers another stirring of semi-coherent moaning, there’s another ‘please’ in there somewhere, maybe another 'Daddy', definitely another 'fuck me'. Then he’s silenced because they’re kissing rough and fast like Dean wants _everything_. But the man still doesn’t fucking move. Wraps a hand into Dean’s hair hard and sharp and painful just like he loves it.

“Daddy?” is all Dean manages to say, or is it cry – he just can’t actually tell anymore. But it’s enough apparently.

Suddenly the Hellblazer goes fucking berserk on him. In the best way possible. Bites hard into his shoulder. Sets a deep, pounding, thrusting, relentless speed. Just on the edge of too far and too hard. Hammering home into that sweet spot. Again, and again, and a-fucking-gain. Oh dear god, yes.

Dean is gasping and breathing so hard it really is almost sobbing. What started off as words, begging for ‘more’ and ‘harder’ have devolved into desperate pleading little sounds and guttural moaning. Firm, fast, and _pure_. So fucking real.

When it comes his orgasm punches through him. Like an ocean of feeling slamming into his body. A tidal wave of erotic release and pure visceral sensation that washes over as well as through him. So pure it washes him away. Leaves behind something or someone else. Something clean and raw. Ripped open and remade. His whole self trembles with it.

And at some point during that revelation of an experience John must come too because he stops moving. But instead of pulling out immediately he actually pulls Dean closer. Nuzzles into the hunter’s neck. Kisses his throat lightly and it’s tender rather than teasing this time. It’s a form of affection that Dean doesn’t really know what to do with but he’s already so pliant and contented that he just accommodates it anyway. Catches his breath as best he can with the Hellblazer still this close and burrowed inside him. Under his skin in more ways than one.

“Proud o’ you, Winchester,” John mumbles into Dean’s shoulder. And he’s not sure if it is still part of the scene or if he’s serious. Doesn’t know if Constantine knew how frigging hard it was for him to say out loud what he wanted like that. To spell it out and tear himself open doing so. But he’ll take it either way.

He twists uncomfortably in the restraints so that he can tilt his chin just so and catch Constantine’s next kiss with his mouth instead of his neck. Immerses himself in that instead of his thoughts.

Constantine kisses him back, still a little passion rough. Then finally moves their bodies apart, carefully pulling out.

“So, _Daddy_ ,” Dean says. Mocking this time and bordering on snarky. “You gonna untie me or am I calling Social Services?” Push him away a bit. Turn the fears of your childhood into a joke. That's much safer territory.

All it gets him is a rough laugh, though. Strong enough that Dean feels as well as hears it. Feels the quivering movements of the other guy’s body against his. And yep, that confirms it. Dean is almost certainly a little hooked on that sound. It rasps against his very self and pulls him just a little bit more open. Makes him want things that he has no right to want. He sighs and tries to chase back the post-orgasmic calm he had just moments ago.

“Yeah, I can do that mate,” Constantine says with a slightly too knowing look. The exorcist leans across Dean’s chest to start loosening one of the restraints. Cotton drags across raw over-sensitive skin and Dean wonders if there is anything about this man he _isn’t_ addicted to.

“Thanks,” Dean says looking away as he speaks. He isn’t sure what he means by it. Thanks for fucking me so hard I saw stars and came untouched? Thanks for helping take out this stupid ghost? Thanks for existing? Thanks for making me say something I never thought I would - at least not if I _meant_ it when I said it? Thanks for existing? Thanks for saving the motherfucking world that time? God only knows. Dean certainly doesn’t.

“Anytime, mate.” Constantine winks at him and stands up to start putting himself back together. Lets Dean get the second restraint one-handed. Dean wonders what he thought he was being thanked for. Anytime to what, exactly? But it seems his nerve went post-orgasm flaccid along with his cock.

As he watches the Hellblazer move Dean just knows he is totally screwed – figuratively as well as literally, that is. Hell, he should have known it from the moment he met the guy. And yeah that’s scary as all hell - this whole thing is. But he also aches in all the right ways for once so maybe, just maybe, it’ll be okay? Maybe, if it feels this good, playing with hellfire is worth the risk of getting burned?

**Author's Note:**

> Succorance: the act of seeking out affectionate care and social support. Same Latin origin as succubus.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Please tell me what you think. I went out on a limb with this one and want to know if it paid off!
> 
> * * *
> 
> I has a tumblr - <http://kittyaugust.tumblr.com/>
> 
> * * *


End file.
